...Have mercy on me Anne. I assure you my head is recovering from its figurative beating, but my poor broken heart is not. I tender this peace offering and I hope you take it in the spirit with which it is tendered. Anne picked up the simple piece that had dropped from Gilbert's envelope. Turning it around in her fingers she wondered what it was supposed to be. She turned the page over and saw written in the corner the words, I hope you like my monkey. Hmm she sniffed, pleased he told me. Maybe he should try a rattlesnake next time.

All was well in Hugh's world. After an initial spell with the Blythes he had moved into Green Gables with Matthew. The elderly gentleman was kind and careful. Slowly but surely, he gained Hugh's trust, but there was a particular chore Matthew performed on occasion. There was a tone and a staccato to it, and it upset Hugh in ways he could not express. Tap, tap … tap, tap. Hugh couldn't abide it, it made him dreadfully uncomfortable. It got so he had had to be out of earshot if he saw Matthew leading the horse back to the barn just in case he heard the awful noise.

During the day's work Matthew noticed that the horse was slightly lame on its right hind quarter. It did not take much thinking to know that it had probably cast a shoe. Annoying, but not terrible; he could easily fix that when they went in. Matthew called out for Hugh to unhitch the horse as he'd been taught, but the boy did not appear even after he had gone outside calling his name. Odd, Matthew was sure he'd seen him up by the house. Sighing because he had wanted the lad to start pulling his weight as all the children did thereabouts, Matthew did the job himself chatting to the horse as he went, thanking it for the work it had done. He knew he was considered a bit daft for talking to his animals, but he'd gotten into the habit while he lived alone, and it comforted man and beast. Once the horse was unhitched, he lifted up the hoof momentarily to check and went to find a spare shoe. He called out for Hugh, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

When Hugh had still not appeared by dinner time Matthew began to worry. He made his way up to Marilla's place to enquire if anyone had seen him. They had not but the place was in an uproar for Goliath had also gone missing. Eventually it was Johnny who located them. They were together Hugh rolled up in the foetal position behind a pile of hay with the monkey nestled under his chin. "Hey Hugh," Johnny called softly placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "We all been looking for you. Uncle Matthew's real worried." The only response was that the boy curled up tighter. Johnny stood up straight, arms akimbo and regarded boy and monkey. Trying again he softened his tone, "c'mon Hugh. You ain't in no trouble. It's dinner time. I reckon Ma will have cooked up something real nice for us? Her cooking's the best don't ya reckon. Better than mouldy ship biscuit or rotten pork any day."

Blood roaring in his ears Hugh could barely hear Johnny. All that he could discern was the knocking of his heart, so loud he was sure anyone would hear it. He didn't have the space to think how his escape would be viewed, all he could do was hunker down and listen to the thump of his heart.

Scratching his head Johnny ran out of words and eventually he backed out to find his mother. She'd know what to do. "What do you mean he's in the barn?" Marilla said as she dished out the dinner.

"He's up there with Goliath but I couldn't get him to come with me, Ma."

Pursing her lips Marilla went to investigate. As much as she liked Hugh and wanted to help, she had enough on her plate at present; Lilly was cutting a tooth and fractious with it. Nevertheless she softly called, "Hugh." Easing herself down onto the hay. There was no answer. She took in the boy before her. He was breathing hard, visibly panting. The monkey reached out to her through his clenched arms. "Hugh," she repeated. "Relax just a tiny bit can you, the monkey wants to escape." Obviously that message did get through because imperceptibly initially the boy did release just enough for the monkey to scamper over his shoulder and into her comforting lap. "He's a nice little thing, isn't he?" Marilla said conversationally as though they were sat at the kitchen table on a regular afternoon. "You must have met him out at sea. Anne dotes on him." She laughed sardonically, "who am I kidding, we all do. Did anyone ever tell you how we came to find him? He was in an Italian market. I don't think his previous owner was particularly kind to him, but as you can imagine Anne took him under her wing. I'd never seen her transfixed like that." Lulled by her words Hugh slowly unclenched able to concentrate on her tone if not her actual speech. When he had finally sat up next to her, she took his hand and led him over to the house for dinner.

Later she and Matthew discussed the situation. "I'm always happy to help a child in distress, you know that Matthew, but I have enough on my plate. If you could work out what Hugh's problem is, I would appreciate it." Matthew nodded, he understood. The problem was he had not the slightest idea what he was doing wrong.

Her song preceded her, wafting on the summer's breeze. Thinking he had been alone Gilbert stopped and listened intently. The music came and went with the wind and somehow that was always his memory of her, the shifting sound of her sweet voice rising and falling on the wind.

When she came into view, he felt like an interloper, but he hadn't been spying on her as such he was just there in the vicinity after all. The music broke off abruptly when she saw his head poking out above the grass. Instead of accosting him she just stood and stared for the longest time before turning and running away. He wished he'd said something in that moment but was so shocked to see anyone out here on the wide-open prairie that he forgot how to speak.

Her song haunted his dreams and without meaning to he sought her out. But it was a few days before he encountered her again. Her name as it turned out was Ada Dolphin. Her family had arrived shortly before they did. She hinted at her father's past transgressions, but Gilbert did not press. He preferred to think of Ada as a will o' the wisp, sprung from the waving grasses.

When she told him her name he asked if she had ever seen a dolphin? "No, never a one. Ma and Pa have of course on their voyage here. I've only read about them. Have you?"

Ada was fascinated when he told her about his life on board and all the adventures they'd had. She sat rapt as he told her about the time they'd been on safari gasping when he told her about their encounter with the lion. "I would have wet my drawers," she said awestruck, he made light of it naturally. Still, he recalled the thrill of fear that laced his guts when the beast yawned at them, its massive eye teeth forever glinting in his mind's eye. Then she laughed with amazement when he told her about the Ceylonese wedding marvelling at the thought of arriving on elephant. "Are they really that big?" she asked.

"They're massive," he replied. "And it was painted, matching the saris all the women wore. Even my Ma." He stopped remembering that moment, how wonderful his mother looked in her pink sari, way back before her breakdown when life seemed full of possibilities. He lapsed into silence remembering. He was still so long Ada picked a few stems to weave. He came to with a shake when she showed him her work but said his goodbyes shortly after.

"What did you do out there on the ocean? Was it boring?" Ada asked him one afternoon.

"The sea?" he said surprised. "It's never dull. There's always more work to be done."

"But didn't you have men to do all that?"

"Well, yes but Dad had me working as hard as the others and I had to help Ma with the little ones too."

"Didn't she have any help? She shoulda taken on a girl." Gilbert couldn't help gaping, hadn't he ever mentioned Anne.

Ada found him one morning trying to perfect his weaving mastery and laughed not unkindly at his attempts. "What's that supposed to be then?" she asked in her beguiling Scottish lilt.

He lifted it up to show her, "it's a monkey."

"A monkey, is it? I ain't never seen a monkey 'cept in books but that don't look like any I ever seen."

Gilbert grimaced, "I know, but it's tricky. The grass keeps breaking."

"Aye," she smiled conciliatorily. "Maybe you should try greener grass, this old yella stuff is too brittle. How about this?" She plucked a newer strand and wove it around and around and showed him her work.

"Not bad."

Pouting she exclaimed, "not bad, is it?" and she threw it at his head. "You do better then."

"No, no I don't mean that. I meant it was…" but he stopped when he saw the laughter in her eyes.

She did more than tease him though, he found himself pouring his heart out to her, speaking of his life in the before times saying more than he meant to.

In turn he asked her about her singing, and she blushed, saying, "oh, it's nowt."

"I think it's beautiful," he said huskily. "You have a real talent."

"Well, there ain't nothing I can do with it, what's the point?" Gilbert found that sad because she really did have a beautiful voice.

The whistle of a bird could be heard way above and Ada's head shot up to locate the dot in the air. "Shh," she hissed. "I think it's a falcon, watch." Gilbert followed her look up and could barely see the dot in the sky, but it quickly became apparent as it grew larger in a split second and then the short scream of some small animal in the grass a few yards away. "Wow," Gilbert was impressed.

Ada nodded, "aye they're incredible. Nothing faster."

"Devastating. That thing never knew what hit it." He glanced at Ada wondering what her reaction would be, but relaxed when he saw her grinning. "You're not upset?"

"No, it's the way it is. The falcon has to eat to survive you know."

"I suppose so."

She added, "it's not like they get any help from anyone, they're on their own." Gilbert nodded, sometimes he felt the same way.

I know I shouldn't say it John, there's nothing that can be done but I miss you. During the day I'm busy rushing from one thing to the next and I barely have time to think. Late at night and early in the morning when it's just me and the baby, I long for you by my side my dearest one. Not merely for the extra pair of hands, though I can't say that wouldn't be useful. No, it's your touch, the press of your chest, that certain John ambrosia. I long to hear the tone of your voice telling me everything will be all right. I falter at times, which I know I may not do.

It is strange I find this little child Matthew fetched home strangely beneficial. I don't know Hugh's past of course but I feel he's had a torrid time. He looks at me with such depth as though he understands. I can't express myself properly on paper. We have not yet sent him to school as he is still rather traumatised, so he spends the days with me and the babies. He's very helpful and starting slowly to come out of his shell. He has not explained much, but he's dropping the odd hint and one can't help feeling that he has had a sad time of it. I admit I was shocked when he arrived, but I doubt Matthew could have in good conscience have left him where he was. The state of his fingers alone, John you would have been aghast. Anne told me Johnny's were in a similar state when they rescued him and that alone makes me weep.